


Getting Gay with the Girls

by InsominiacArrest



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsominiacArrest/pseuds/InsominiacArrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke joins a band it's not the hours, lifestyle or drama she struggles with the most but her drill sergeant band mate- set on both self destruction and making them the best queer-punk-fuck you band in Seattle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Gay with the Girls

She stares you down from her perch on a low couch on the floor, eyeing you up and down before taking a long swig from a whiskey bottle. “Go on.” She says shortly, waving her hand back and forth.

Clarke doesn’t need to be prompted twice, she holds her guitar closer to her body and strums it one chord at a time.

The bass pulses through her fingertips, she starts tapping her foot automatically to the beat and closes her eyes. _Thump, thump, thuuump._

The rhythm takes over, crossing all the lines through her senses and finding just the right melody to let her feel it flowing from her fingertips.

“Alright, alright,” Lexa, the female lead, hushes Clarke with a few flat words, “good job. You can strum bass a few times.” It sounded slurred and yet uniform, clipped.

Clarke finally speaks up, “what then?”

Lexa takes another sip and then readjusts her bracelets on her arm, “why do you want to be in the band?”

Clarke blinks rapidly, “need work.” She replies bluntly, “music,” she smirks, “wasn’t half bad of a choice.”

Lexa’s eyes light up at that and she sits forward, “an honest one.” She observes.

“Have you even heard our work?” The other one, the one with long brown hair that hung around her face like a sheet, remarks.

“Octavia,” Lexa says shortly, warningly and then looks back at Clarke with arched eyebrows, hooded eyes.

“Oh, it’s like that.” Octavia crosses her arms firmly before grabbing her jacket and storming out of the room, “We’re a band, not a booty call service Lexa.” She stomps out.

Clarke watches her leave and already feels like this is too much drama.

Lexa shrugs lazily, “drummers, amiright?”

“For the record,” you lower your guitar, “I have heard your music.”

“Good,” she leans forward and itches her neck, “that’ll make things easier.”

“What easier?”

“You want in or not kid?” She lights a cigarette and looks off into the distance, it might be ‘wistful’ if you didn’t already consider her an emotionless asshole.

You shift from foot to foot. “Are we indie punk or folk rock screemo?” You thought you’d get that out of the way.

“We’re punk-folk-rock fuck you.” She gives a wry smile and a drag of cigarette, still with not so much as a facial expression, “least that’s what I tell anyone who asks.”

Boy, you must be popular, is all she can think to herself.

“And it’s just you and the other chick?”

“Yeah, there was more, but well,” she sits back down on the couch and puts her feet up, “do you wanna know why I wanted to join?” She asks.

“Why did you want to join?”

She slowly and precisely puts out the thin inhalant, “to meet girls.”

You perk up an eyebrow, “Getting Gay with the Girls.” You repeat the band name.

“And you may never find a more tedious way to get laid.” She was baiting you, testing you, you don’t flinch.

“I’m just looking for a job. In the arts. That gets me out of town.” You explain haltingly.

“Very specific. However, we’re looking for business.”

“And where should I sign?”

She crosses her arms and then finally smiles, “good choice. Let me get Bellamy.” She turns around the corner, you note her impeccably straight posture and quiet footsteps, “Bellamy!”

Clarke hears heavier footsteps descending into this dilapidated living room that happened to have a drum set in it.

A young man with tousled black hair enters, they exchange short nods, “this the girl?” He asks.

Lexa cheers her whiskey in the air, “this is the one. She already said yes.”

  
Bellamy flashes a grin, “why wouldn’t she? My little sisters band is reported as the next big thing.” Octavia follows him down the stairs looking a little less terse.

“I _have_ heard your music.” You report to her factually.

She gives a long put upon sigh, “good. You’re alright, we can use you.” She replies while searching the room like someone looking for a lost hedgehog.

You nod robotically and look around for any papers you have to sign, or at least an agreement. You’re not the type to not read what you’re getting into.

“Here it is. One contract.” Bellamy, their manager, hands you a sheet of paper. “Glad Lexa didn’t scare you too much.” He observes lowly.

She looks Lexa directly in the eye as she kneels down to read, “She didn’t scare me.”

Lexa flashes another rare smile, though it was more like a smirk of a shark before it takes a bite of you, she takes another sip of bottom-dollar liquor.

“She Gay enough for the Girls?” Bellamy asks sardonically to the room.

“Oh. Right,” Octavia eyes her, “you can be bi or whatever but I’m sure you know we’re pretty damn queer. If you’ve heard the lyrics.”

You look up at her as you take a pen in hand and jot down your name in precise lettering, “that’s why I’m here.”

Lexa watches carefully. “Good man.” She declares, “welcome to the band.”


End file.
